


do you feel your body

by gravitycentered



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Dirty Talk, First Time, M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3535613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravitycentered/pseuds/gravitycentered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I take pride in my stealthy masturbation,” Louis says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	do you feel your body

**Author's Note:**

> **me at 11pm** : i'm gonna do this awesome prompt in my askbox real quick  
>  **me at 3am** : well here's 2.3k of pornography! 
> 
> no one except me has read this so if there are typos, which i'm sure there are, it is MY FAULT... I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED.
> 
> anyway, [come say hello on tumblr!!](http://zaptains.tumblr.com)

“I swear to god I could hear him _groaning_ straight through the walls,” Louis says, earphones in, phone resting hot on his belly. 

Zayn’s agrees through breathless giggles on the other line, “He’s bloody loud.” 

“It’s fucking ridiculous, mate. Glad he’s stopped bunking with us, honestly." 

“He’s just as loud wanking, isn’t he?” Zayn asks, still pushing out little laughs every few breaths. “I can still, like, hear it in my head. Oh my god.” 

“Passionate lover, our Harold,” Louis says. It sends Zayn into another bout of laughter, and Louis has to stifle a few laughs himself at how amused Zayn is, overtired so late into the night. 

“Fuck,” Zayn eventually exhales, sighing like it’s tired him out. “You’d think he’d’ve learned to keep it quiet by now.” 

“He did grow up with a sister as well. There’s no way he wanked so freely at home, is there?” 

“He grew up with one, we had, like, 15.” 

“15 apiece,” Louis agrees. “D’you think he shags someone as loud as possible to, like... rebel against his quiet childhood wanks?” 

“Text him that.” 

“Alright,” Louis says. He does, pulling up his messages and reciting word for word as he types to Harry, “ _Do you... shag people very loudly... to make up for quiet childhood wanks... ?_ ” 

“Eloquent,” Zayn says proudly. 

“I take pride in my stealthy masturbation,” Louis says. “He should be ashamed of himself.” 

“You’re not that quiet, bro,” Zayn says. 

“Excuse me,” Louis replies. 

“Think I probably know every time you rub one out.” 

“Impossible.”

“You did last night,” Zayn says, and Louis feels his face heat up immediately. He can’t think of something to say quickly enough, so Zayn continues, “You’re not as bad as Harry, though.” 

“That’s only slightly reassuring,” Louis winces. 

“Nah, it’s a bit hot,” Zayn says, casual as anything. “You just, like... pant. Breathe harder.” 

“And you can _hear_ that?” Louis asks, cutting him off before Zayn can answer, “Oh god, shut up.” 

“You literally do it right above me, like, a foot away in the bunks.” 

“I never hear you!” 

“Usually got my face in a pillow,” Zayn replies. Louis can hear the shrug in his voice. 

“Obviously I’ll have to keep that in mind for next time,” Louis says. 

“Wouldn’t matter much. You can’t keep still, either, anyway. You’re shifting, like, squirming around the whole time.” 

Louis shifts around now at the mention of how he acts when he’s wanking; it feels like Zayn’s _watched_ him instead of just heard him, like he knows exactly what Louis does when he’s touching himself. He thinks for a minute before responding, eventually joking, “Never getting off again.” 

“It’s hot,” Zayn repeats, more blatantly this time. “Like when you— you’ll gasp, sometimes. Like you can’t help it.” 

There’s a jolt that goes through Louis’ belly at that. He hesitates too long to reply, so Zayn carries on, “Must be good for you, yeah?”

“Wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t,” Louis says, running his fingertips along the strongly stitched seams of his duvet to occupy his hands. 

After a moment, Zayn asks, “What is it you do?” 

“Uh,” Louis says, laughing a little to diffuse the tension and ignore his swelling dick, “Besides…? I mean, you want specifics?” 

“Could use a few tips,” Zayn says. There’s a smirk hidden in his tone. 

Louis swallows. There are specifics, really. Specifics like how some days he’ll pinch and tug at his nipples to get them sore before even pulling his cock out, or how some days he’ll get himself to the edge over and over until he can’t take it anymore, or how every few months there’ll be a day where he needs to lie facedown in bed and work a few fingers inside himself, grinding into the pillow beneath his hips. 

Eventually, he says, “My tip is to use more lube.” 

Zayn hums on the other line, considering. “When the bus was stopped once, like, without the engines running I could even hear that. Wet like you’re fucking a girl.” 

“Jesus,” Louis shivers, covering his face as if Zayn can see him flushing. “Did you not think to mention how loud all this was before right now?” 

“Maybe I liked listening,” Zayn says; his voice holds that smirk again, teasing. 

“You’re terrible,” Louis says, trying for chastising. 

“You sound good,” Zayn counters, “especially when you come.” 

Louis’ dick jumps in his pyjamas, searching out friction. He’s quiet until he’s sure the silence is becoming unbearable, running through potential replies in his head, until he finally mumbles, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn affirms. “You whine sometimes, like.” After a pause, he adds, “Gets me hard.” 

“God,” Louis breathes out, pushing the mic away from his mouth a bit, conscious of his quick breathing. 

“Still not that loud, babe. Not as loud as I’d like,” Zayn murmurs, lower, following the shift in mood and matching it with his tone. 

“Shut up,” Louis repeats weakly, embarrassed by how red he’s gone and how hard he’s gotten, fingernails digging into the soft, overstuffed duvet. 

Zayn doesn’t shut up. “I’d like to hear you proper,” he says, shuffling around in his own bed, two doors down from Louis. “Let you make some real noise, yeah? Bet you’d be loud if you could.” 

“Never thought much on it,” Louis admits. His dick is pulsing faintly with every rapid heartbeat, practically demanding touch, but he only lets himself drag his fingertips along his stomach, stopping before they dip into his waistband. 

“Maybe you haven’t been fucked quite well enough, yet, then,” Zayn says assuredly, breathing out a long sigh. The sound sends goosebumps along Louis’ arms. 

“ _Yet_ , huh,” Louis says, as lightly as he can manage. He shifts his hips, dick flexing against the tight confines of his pants. 

“Yet,” Zayn repeats. “Know I can make you loud, Lou.” 

Louis’ breath hitches without his permission, the air stuttering in his throat, and Zayn hums so softly it sounds like a purr. “Yeah, c’mon. Can hear you’re gettin’ turned on, babe.” 

“Don’t sound too far behind,” Louis says, rubbing down his hips, stalling. 

“M’not,” Zayn admits. “Had my hand on myself for a bit. Listenin’ to you get all, like… gettin’ you flustered.” His words slur together, accent thick like his tongue’s gone lazy on him. 

Suddenly bold, Louis asks, “Got your prick out?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn sighs, “just took it out.” 

“Oughta get it wet like I said,” Louis mumbles; finally, he curls his hand around his cock through his pants and pyjamas, squeezing lightly to let himself feel the tease of relief. He breathes out a sound that makes Zayn hum right back, encouraging. 

“Get it wet for me,” Zayn says. “Tell me all the time about how good you are with that mouth, don’t ya?” 

“Jesus, Zayn,” Louis mutters. He rubs hard at his dick, keeping his hand fitted to the shape of it through his clothes, hit with another punch of arousal every time Zayn speaks. 

“Can teach you how to suck me, yeah? Let you go slow, learn how it feels to have a cock in your mouth?” 

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, helpless to the thought of it, of letting Zayn push into his mouth and tell him how to suck. He squeezes the head of his dick with his free hand, rubbing it harder than the rest, milking out enough pre-come to slick the inside of his pants. 

“Yeah,” Zayn echoes, panting softly on the line. Louis gets carried away inside his head, thinking of Zayn lying in bed not 50 meters away, of leaving his room and letting himself into Zayn’s and climbing up beside him to suck his cock, make him come and swallow the taste of him. It hits him all at once, a wall of images and ideas and consuming thoughts that are overwhelming. All he can do in response is lift his hips and shove his clothes down to his thighs, replacing both hands on his cock as soon as it’s bare and gasping out loud. 

“Good, babe, let me hear you,” Zayn murmurs. “Wanna hear you come.” 

Louis squeezes himself tight at the base while working his hand over the rest of his cock, rubbing roughly at the slit to make himself gasp again for Zayn, just to hear the praise. There’s a sheen of sweat building at his temples and along his entire core, his hips and belly and thighs feeling feverishly overheated as he pulls himself off. He listens for Zayn, moving faster when he catches the quiet rhythm of his panting. 

Embarrassingly desperate, Louis says, “Tell me what you’re thinking about,” sucking in a lungful of air to hold inside afterward. 

“Fuck, I’m—” Zayn starts, hesitant. There’s long seconds of silence, long enough that Louis begins to get dizzy and lets his breath out in a huff. Zayn mirrors the sound with a sigh and a gasp and says, “Your arse.” 

Feeling his muscles clench, Louis lets himself make another sound; Zayn exhales harshly, the sound filled with static through the phone. “What about it?” Louis manages to breathe out, parting his thighs as much as the clothes stuck around his legs will let him. 

“Thinkin’ it’s how I could get you loud,” Zayn says, so lax in his speech that Louis almost strains to understand him. “Get a coupla fingers in you, fuck you with ‘em til you come like that.” 

“ _Yeah_ ,” Louis says. He feels himself getting close, every muscle tensed in anticipation, making it harder to even pull himself off without his biceps straining from the effort. 

Zayn latches onto the idea, pushing it, “Want you on your front, Lou, wanna watch my fingers stretch you, yeah? Watch my cock stretch you open?” 

His orgasm hits him before he’s fully prepared for it, knocking a whine out of him that makes Zayn groan low in his throat in response. Everything except the sudden rush of blood in Louis’ ears becomes muted for a long minute as he comes across his stomach, thick stripes landing on his bare belly and up onto his top. Zayn sounds as frantic as Louis’ ever heard him when he focuses back in, breathing hard and fast. 

“Zayn,” he mumbles, just to say his name, wanting to help talk him off but unable to think fast enough to do it. 

“So, so good, fuck,” Zayn slurs, muffled, like maybe he’s talking half into a pillow. 

“C’mon,” Louis manages, “gotta hear you now.” 

“Yeah,” Zayn sighs, a soft, throaty groan following. 

Face burning even as he thinks it, Louis asks, “Still thinking about my arse, yeah?” 

“About makin’ you come,” Zayn says. Hearing him out of control, so breathless and close makes Louis feel like he’ll never calm down, his skin still prickling with heat and cock still hard, sensitive when he gives it a squeeze. 

“Made me come just now,” Louis tells him, still catching his own breath again. “Just thinking about you.” 

Zayn doesn’t say anything back for once, the first time he’s not had a verbal response ready; he just gasps instead, a sudden sound, like it’s surprised him. 

“C’mon, love,” Louis tries, “my turn to listen to you come. Wanna hear it, too. Never have been loud enough for me to hear yet, have you?” 

“M’gonna,” Zayn promises, barely a whisper, quiet enough that Louis has to scramble to turn the volume on his phone up with a clean hand. 

“Good, yeah, come on,” he encourages, absently rubbing a hand over his chest. His fingertips catch on a nipple and he strokes there instead, purposefully, wanting some kind of stimulation too when Zayn finally goes over the edge. 

He comes quietly, just one cut-off groan replaced with silence as he holds his breath. Louis has to fill in the rest with his imagination: Zayn’s hand working fast over his cock that’s gone dark at the tip, shooting up to his chest, ropes of come draped across his narrow hips and filling in the dark lines of his tattoos. Zayn gasps once he lets go of the breath he was holding, moaning out softly through the end of his orgasm. 

Louis lifts his head to examine himself in the silence that follows as they process what just happened. The come on his belly is drying and he looks a mess, clothes shoved halfway off, semi-hard dick still nestled in the line of his hip. His phone’s somehow stayed resting just between his ribs, precariously close to a spot of come on his shirt. 

“I… almost came on my phone,” Louis says, taking it off his chest and placing it gently next to him on the bed. 

Zayn gives him a lazy giggle, clearly exhausted. “Did Harry ever text you back?” 

“Shit,” Louis says. He pulls up his messages to check, but there’s nothing new. “Nope. Should I give him a nice ‘thank you’ text? It is mostly his fault this just happened.” 

“I’ll do it. I’ll just put _thanks_ and see what he makes of it.” 

“Go on, then,” Louis says. He hears Zayn tapping at the phone for a moment, and then the click of it being locked. 

“So…” Zayn starts. 

“ _So_ ,” Louis agrees. 

“That— wait. He’s sent back _you’re welcome_ with a kiss. Literally didn’t even ask what I’m talking about.” 

Affronted, Louis says, “He replied back to you right away but ignored me? Ask why he’s ignoring me.” After another series of taps has stopped, Louis says, “That bastard.” 

Almost immediately afterward, Zayn says, “He just said _I’m not that loud_.” 

Louis scoffs so forcefully that it sends him into a coughing fit. Over the sound of himself hacking up a lung, all he can hear is Zayn laughing.


End file.
